


And It Starts With a Party

by PursueYou



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: :), F/M, Fluff and Angst, High School, I'm Sorry, M/M, this sucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-28
Updated: 2012-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 11:10:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/939284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PursueYou/pseuds/PursueYou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Zayn is a dick for no apparent reason, and Niall is too careless with his feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And It Starts With a Party

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first 1D story posted on AO3, so I hope you'll enjoy!

Sometimes, Niall doesn’t like Zayn.  
Well, that’s not true. Niall always likes Zayn.  
———— 

The first time Niall meets him is a mistake.

It really isn’t because Louis _had_ invited Zayn to his party but — Niall hadn’t really wanted to be there in the first place; he’d been forced to go against his will, so he supposes it sort of is a mistake. Niall ignores the tiny voice in the back of his mind that calls it fate.

Liam had dragged him to the party to cheer him up. To be fair Niall had been frowning for three straight weeks after receiving that rejection letter. He understood that they were getting sick of his moping, so he couldn’t find it in himself to protest too much when Liam appeared at his door and told him to put on his best party outfit, they’re going to Louis’s.

He still didn’t _want_ to go.

But when Liam Payne tells you to do something, makes it sound like it will make him the happiest person in the world if you just do this one thing for him tonight, pretend to be happy because he doesn’t like seeing you upset, you don’t say no. You can’t. You put up a half-assed fight and grumble a lot and throw him peeved glances but it only ends up prolonging the inevitable, “Fine. Whatever. Let’s go.”

Niall isn’t sure if Liam hears the muttered, “you cunt,” as he leads the way to the car, but if he does, well, then he doesn’t grace Niall with a response.

*

The music can be heard from _outside_ Louis’s house, something Niall isn’t surprised about, per say, but something he isn’t ready for regardless. Liam is looking at him with a pleased grin on his face, one that says, “Hey man, I’m really glad that you’re doing this with me.” Niall gives him tentative smile before heading up to the front door, sighing.

The door is unlocked and as soon as Niall opens it he sees bodies. He sees bodies everywhere, dancing and kissing and grinding and drinking, and he’s not sure but he thinks he sees bodies rolling around on the couch and moving in ways that make his stomach clench and his head avert to the side.

Then Louis is somehow _there,_ as if he’d been waiting for him, and Niall suddenly realizes that maybe he has. Liam had probably planned this with Louis and Harry, now that Niall thinks about it, and okay, fine, he doesn’t really — it’s whatever. He’s here now, anyways, in Louis’s tight grip; in a hug that seems a little too tight for it to mean that he’s just casually glad to see him. No, it definitely is laced with something along the lines of pride, that Niall is actually out of his bedroom for once.

Then Harry appears next to them, throwing an arm over Liam’s shoulders and throwing Niall a huge grin.

About an hour later, Niall is drunk. And by drunk he means “dancing with random strangers and laughing his ass silly and making obscene gestures to pretty girls” drunk. Not to the point where he doesn’t know where or who is, but — he’s on his way there.

(Not to worry, though; Liam is in the corner talking to a girl with an extremely huge and curly head of hair, watching Niall like a hawk.)

Niall is grinding against a giggly blond when Louis comes up to him with Harry on one side and two other boys on his other side. Niall breaks away from the girl, who gives him a wasted little huffand stumbles away. He first notices the boy with the bright, ginger hair, noting the way it practically glows in the dim light and sticks out in every direction. The ginger is smiling, his eyes subdued only a little by alcohol, and Niall finds himself smiling widely back.

Then Niall looks over to the other boy, and his smile is suddenly frozen in place.

This stranger has to be a model. Or a celebrity. Or something.

He has tanned skin that’s currently shining with sweat in a way that makes Niall want to lick it off, and his face is flushed from excitement and his eyes are droopy from booze. A lazy smile that goes too far up on one side is gracing his face, and then Niall notices the jaw line. And fuck, his cheekbones. And then — _stubble._

Niall tries to swallow the lump in his throat as their eyes meet, and at first he doesn’t notice how incredibly dark this stranger’s eyes are because suddenly it’s like everything else gets blurred and it’s just them and the ginger’s crazy hair; but then he sees the long eyelashes and the brown irises and he has to look away because there’s a burning in his lungs that lets him know that he has momentarily stopped breathing.

Niall looks over at Louis and sees his lips moving so he dazedly forces himself to focus on what his friend is saying.

“…guys are Ed and Zayn, the ones I’ve told you about, yeah? Guys, this is Niall. He’s Irish.” Louis says this like it explains everything. Maybe it does, Niall doesn’t know.

Ginger throws a hand up in greeting, muttering a curiously timid, “Hi. ‘m Ed.” Niall smiles faintly at him again, inclining his head jerkily, still thrown off by the other boy’s — _Zayn’s_ — eyes.

He nervously glances back at Zayn, who throws his chin up in greeting, not saying a word and holding himself like he owns the place. The gesture and his demeanor are enough to snap Niall out of his daze, make him snort at how cool this guy thinks he is.

(Niall doesn’t want to think about how he’d reacted that way because of a _guy._ )

Niall isn’t sure when Harry left, but suddenly he’s there again, handing everybody another round of drinks.

It’s another couple of hours later when Father Liam is back at Niall’s side, trying to shove him out the door, insisting, “Niall, look, you’re wasted. Let’s just get you home. I shouldn’t have brought you here, not with all this alcohol.” Liam can’t quite get himself to believe his own words, though, because he’s really just glad Niall is in his natural habitat again, but he still thinks Niall should at least be sleeping in his own bed tonight.

*

On the drive home, (Niall isn’t surprised to find that Liam hadn’t had a sip of alcohol) (but he is surprised that he’s apparently met a girl) Niall can’t help thinking about Zayn. About the way he’d been kind of an asshole, really, flirting shamelessly with every girl who looked at him and then throwing Niall a deprecating look immediately afterwards every time.

It had made Niall’s heart beat ridiculously fast at the time, turning his cheeks red with frustration and embarrassment and hey, a new one, _lust_ , and all Niall could think in his head was, “Wanker. Wanker. Wanker.”

The memories are making him react the same way now, too.

Niall is proud of the fact that he hadn’t jumped Zayn or anything stupid like that, drunk as he was, but he supposes that he has always been able to handle his alcohol pretty well because hello, Irish, and maybe Louis is on to something in thinking that it explains everything.

Once home, Niall barely hits the bed before he crashes out like a light. Liam looks down at his passed out form, smiling at him in a sort of motherly way for a moment, then making sure to place a glass of water and a couple of painkillers on Niall’s bedside table before heading out through the front door.

———— 

Sometimes, Niall doesn’t like Zayn.  
Well, that’s not true. Niall always likes Zayn.  
But sometimes, he doesn’t like the way Zayn makes him feel so juvenile. Or the way he makes him stumble over his words. Or the way his heart stutters whenever he’s within spitting distance of the boy.

———— 

There’s an incessant buzzing in Niall’s ear. He’s not sure where it’s coming from, and he’s wondering why he hears it while he’s in the center of a forest. He’s alone with his guitar here, and he’s not actually playing it but there’s sound coming from it anyway, but he knows he’s not making that buzzing noise.

Then everything starts shaking, and the noise gets louder, more human, and all of a sudden he’s in his bedroom. Rubbing at his eyes, he realizes his mother is telling him to get up, but she’s out the door before he has a chance to really hear what she’s said to him.

Within 30 minutes, Niall has showered, dressed, and eaten a feast, and heads out the door in a rush because he’s not really late but he wants to get out of there anyways. He can’t stay locked up in his bedroom anymore because it’ll make him think about that damned rejection letter.

So, school is both a welcome and unwelcome distraction.

Of course, at school he has Harry and Liam, who are in a few of his classes and help him to maintain his sanity. But recently Niall has been comparing himself to all the smart kids and the talented kids and the beautiful kids since he’s received that letter of rejection. For their part, Harry and Liam have been trying their hardest to distract him and boost him up. For the most part, it works.

Niall will leave it at that.

*

The day passes in a blur. It’s just a typical Monday, really.

They finally get their Shakespeare grades back, and surprisingly Niall has passed with flying colors. Unfortunately, he doesn’t do similarly in biology. Liam spends all of the drive home texting that girl he’s just gotten the number of — Niall doesn’t know her name — and Harry is rambling on about some game he and Louis have invented as he runs through a stop sign. Niall isn’t listening. Niall doesn’t care, to be honest.

Later, Niall stays up until one in the morning finishing homework that he should have been doing instead of playing guitar and passes out on top of his math book.

Tuesday follows in much the same fashion.

Wednesday, though, is different.

*

On Wednesday night Louis invites the three of them to his house, rambling on about how he’s rented that one movie that’s rated R and has Natalie Portman in it and Niall still isn’t listening, he just says yes when he has to.

Someone’s car is in Louis’s driveway when Harry parks in the street. Niall can sort of see the silver of it from his position in the backseat. When he gets out of the car he sees it’s flashy and some sort of sports car (really, cars aren’t his thing) but other than that, it’s pretty generic. He doesn’t bother to consider who it might belong to until Liam rings the doorbell and Zayn answers the door.

Niall notices the change in Zayn’s demeanor when he sees him. When he sees Liam and Harry, Zayn smiles widely and nods in greeting; but when he sees Niall is there, too — he straightens and his smile is replaced with a smirk, and his eyes harden a bit and Niall stiffens because — what had he done wrong?

Niall looks at the floor as he walks in, and feels Zayn’s eyes on him as Louis yells to them in greeting from the basement. Niall doesn’t say anything, just walks downstairs. He can practically feel the curiosity burning in both Harry and Liam’s eyes.

As the night progresses and everyone loosens up a little (or a lot) with cheap alcohol and stupid dares, Niall allows himself to stare at Zayn.

Zayn doesn’t pretend not to notice, he stares openly, too, repeatedly throwing Niall that damned smirk and cocking an eyebrow as though daring Niall to do something — and Niall would totally do it, without hesitation, but he just doesn’t know what to _do_.

Louis and Harry are unsurprisingly in their own little world, alternating between nuzzling and attacking each other, and also unsurprisingly Liam is actually watching whatever movie they’ve put on, so Niall knows that nobody else notices when Zayn runs his fingers lightly over the back of Niall’s neck.

Niall also knows it’s not accidental because he is sitting on the floor and Zayn is sitting directly behind him on the couch and there’s no way Zayn had reached out in front of himself _accidentally_.

Niall turns rigid, trying and failing to repress a shiver. He hopes he imagines the quiet chuckle.

It doesn’t happen again for another ten minutes, but then Niall feels fingers on the back of his neck again; only this time they’re firmer and playing with the strands of hair there; twirling it and tugging at it gently, scratching lightly at his skin and pressing in a little bit as though ghosting a massage.

Niall doesn’t know whether to moan or to cry. He settles for not doing anything, just silently enjoying it while it lasts.

Suddenly the fingers leave, are gone just as quickly as they’d appeared, and Liam is saying how great the movie was and Louis is straddling Harry’s lap off to the side, pressing kisses all over Harry’s smiling face. Niall tries not to look as nauseous as he feels and mutters something about going to look for some food.

He thinks he’s alone in the kitchen until he’s stood in front of the open pantry and feels the press of a body all along his back. There’s no doubt in his mind as to who it is.

“Zayn.” It comes out much breathier than he’d intended. It’s a bit embarrassing, if Niall’s being honest.

“Niall.” Zayn presses in more, placing his hands on both sides of Niall’s waist and thrusting his hips forward the tiniest bit, just enough to make Niall bite his tongue to stop himself from releasing any embarrassing noises. This is reminding Niall of a horribly scripted porno, but he can’t bring himself to be too bothered by that fact.

Niall wants to ask him so many things, like _What are you doing upstairs?_ and _Was your plan to turn me into mush down there?_ and _Do you want to take this further, I know where the guest bedroom is_ but all that comes out of his mouth is a shaky, “Looks like we’re out of popcorn.”

Zayn only chuckles into his ear and wanders off back into the basement.

Niall smacks himself in the forehead.

———— 

Sometimes, Niall doesn’t like Zayn.  
Well, that’s not true. Niall always likes Zayn.  
But sometimes, he doesn’t like the way Zayn makes him feel so juvenile. Or the way he makes him stumble over his words. Or the way his heart stutters whenever he’s within spitting distance of the boy.  
And Niall, while innocent and carefree and open, doesn’t like feeling vulnerable.

———— 

Over the next few months Niall sees a lot more of Zayn. Always through Louis, of course, but Niall thinks he can call Zayn a friend now. Maybe. He has Zayn’s number saved in his mobile, at any rate.

Almost everyday Niall will feel a buzzing in his pocket, will open up the new text message that will contain a stupid quote or an even stupider picture with no actual message with any actual meaning. Niall saves every message anyway.

Niall has also come to terms with the fact that he maybe has a tiny crush on Zayn.

And by tiny, Niall might mean massive.

And Niall can’t even bring himself to care too much about the fact that Zayn is a _boy_ because he’s never really been positive about his sexuality anyways, and also Zayn his fucking attractive, so Niall blames Zayn entirely.

Also, there have been more instances like the Popcorn one.

So, honestly, it’s not Niall’s fault.

He thinks Liam notices how he (possibly) stutters around Zayn or how Niall’s eyes (possibly) light up every time he sees Zayn or how he (possibly) checks his phone constantly to see if he’s missed a text from Zayn, but Liam doesn’t say anything to Niall about it. He only grins a little and continues going about his business. Harry and Louis, naturally, don’t notice anything at all.

Zayn definitely notices.

And he maybe plays off of it all the time.

After almost two months of Zayn’s teasing, Niall finally decides sometime in April to do something about it. He tells Liam that he wants to tell Zayn he likes him, forgets that he hasn’t actually told Liam that he likes Zayn yet, but Liam doesn’t bat an eyelash and calmly tells Niall what he would do in that situation; which only confirms that yes, Liam Payne has definitely noticed.

For his part, Liam only says positive things, things like “Well, we already know Zayn likes you, right, or else why would he be leading you on like this?” and “You’re a catch, Niall. If I was into guys, I’d be into you.”

But then one day Niall is walking up to Louis’s house for another party and he sees Zayn’s car parked in the street and Zayn’s pressing some girl up against it, making out with her, and Liam was _wrong_ they were totally _wrong_ and Niall can’t stand watching them make out anymore so he just runs away down the street and doesn’t stop running until he bursts through his bedroom door.

Niall misses the way Zayn’s head jerks around to watch him run off, and they both miss the way Louis glares at Zayn from his position in the front doorway.

*

As Niall lies in bed that night, he thinks about things.

He thinks about how stupid he was to have forgotten that oh right, Zayn is into _girls_. He thinks about all the times Zayn has flirted with him. He thinks about Zayn’s really good music taste. Mostly, though, he just thinks about how good a kisser Zayn must be, if the way he’d been going at it with that girl was anything to go by. He remembers the way his lips had moved against her’s and the way his hands had gripped her waist and the way he had leaned over her in the same way that he would probably lean over Niall.

Niall wonders how he could have been so stupid, to fall for someone like Zayn.

Eventually, though, he stops thinking so much. He resolves to confront Zayn soon, to demand to know why Zayn was doing the things he was doing and tell him to either shove off or fucking _fuck him please_ because Niall just wants everything to be done with. Sighing deeply and squeezing his burning eyes shut, Niall rolls onto his side and falls asleep.

*

(Niall doesn’t notice that he’s stopped moping about that rejection letter, but the others certainly do.)

———— 

Sometimes, Niall doesn’t like Zayn.  
Well, that’s not true. Niall always likes Zayn.  
But sometimes, he doesn’t like the way Zayn makes him feel so juvenile. Or the way he makes him stumble over his words. Or the way his heart stutters whenever he’s within spitting distance of the boy.  
And Niall, while innocent and carefree and open, doesn’t like feeling vulnerable.  
Doesn’t like knowing that Zayn could take Niall’s whole world in the palm of his hand and just crush it to pieces.  
Because Zayn totally could. And Zayn knows it, too.

———— 

The following week, at Louis’s house again, Niall storms up to Zayn in the kitchen and crosses his arms tightly.

The others are in the basement; this moment is slightly reminiscent of the Popcorn Incident, but Niall doesn’t dwell on it.

“What are you playing at?” Zayn raises an eyebrow at him.

“What do you mean?” Infuriating, that’s what Zayn is. And Niall wants to be cryptic, wants to remain a little bit mysterious with his feelings and doesn’t want to give everything away all at once but — sometimes Niall is a right idiot and can’t listen to his own brain and so, of course, this is one of those times.

“I mean, what the hell are you trying to accomplish here, teasing me and flirting with me and touching me, expecting me to ignore it or flirt back or — I don’t know! What the hell do you want from me, Zayn? Tell me and I’ll fucking give it to you or leave me the hell alone.” At some point Niall crowds in Zayn’s face, uncrosses his arms and starts shoving a finger at him accusingly.

Zayn’s eyes widen the slightest bit. If Niall hadn’t been watching him so closely he might have missed it; or he might have missed the way Zayn swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, or the way his face pales a bit. But Niall notices all of it.

Zayn doesn’t say anything for a moment, just stares at Niall as though he had just shot a bird from the sky.

Just as Niall is about to shake his head and storm from the kitchen, Zayn opens his mouth to speak. Niall pauses, waiting.

“You’re right.”

“Well yeah, I know I’m right, you arse.” Zayn only nods and shoves his hands in the pockets of his trousers. He doesn’t say anything else, just sort of watches Niall curiously, nervously, and Niall doesn’t say anything either; just turns around and walks away, back down the basement steps.

Zayn remains in the center of the kitchen, staring at the archway as though Niall will appear there again any second now. But when there’s a sudden flurry of movement, it turns out to be Louis, not Niall.

“You’ve really fucked up, you know.” Louis is looking at him with an uncharacteristically angry expression. Zayn can’t look him in the eye.

“Yeah, mate. I know.”

“And you know you have to sort this out, yeah?” Zayn nods. Louis keeps going.

“Because, like, he’s sort of really special. He’s adorable and intelligent and funny and a genuinely nice person. And he doesn’t know how to use his heart properly and he just goes around handing it to everyone he meets and like — you don’t deserve him, Zayn. We both know you don’t.” Zayn can’t form any sort of argument against Louis, mainly because he _knows._

“So, don’t fucking treat Niall like shit, alright? Tell him that you want him if you do, but more importantly show him that you mean it.” Zayn shifts his weight from one foot to the other and finally looks up at Louis, a look of fierce determination suddenly in his eyes. His fists clench in his pockets.

“Yeah. Yeah, Lou, I will.”

*

That night, Niall hears a _crack_ against his bedroom window. He opens one eye tiredly, the other remaining shut. Another _crack_ sounds and he thinks it’s maybe a rock. He represses a groan and forces the other eye open, stiffly throwing off his blanket and running a tired hand through his hair as he gets out of bed. Out of the corner of his eye he can see the red numbers of his clock flashing _2:43 am_.

This better fucking be good.

And this also better not be a dream, because the figure Niall sees outside his window is Zayn, if the tanned skin and varsity jacket are anything to go by.

Niall doesn’t think twice before shoving open the window and biting out a harsh, “What are you doing here, Malik? Don’t you know it’s nearly three in the morning?”

He misses the way Zayn flinches at the use of his last name.

“I know what time it is, you idiot. Let me inside, will you, it’s freezing out here.”

_Well, maybe that’s because you’re outside in the middle of the night in fucking April._

Niall keeps this to himself. He steps aside to let Zayn climb through the window.

Once inside, Zayn just sort of stands there, breathing and staring, and Niall feels awkward enough in his pajama pants without Zayn staring at him and just turns to shut the window. When he circles around again Zayn is still staring at him intensely. Niall swallows and glares at him as angrily as he can muster, despite the part of him that wants to melt at the fact that Zayn is in his bedroom.

“What do you want, Malik? Did you come here just to fuck with me some more? Because if that’s the case then you can just fucking leave.”

Zayn furrows his eyebrows and steps closer to Niall, and now they’re only a few inches apart and Niall can see the stubble on Zayn’s jaw even in the moonlight and Zayn can see the freckles on Niall’s cheeks.

Zayn looks Niall in the eye.

“Do you like me?”

At first the question doesn’t register, Niall is too caught up in Zayn’s eyes, but then he startles at the question.

“What — excuse me?”

“Do you like me?”

“Do I fucking _like_ you? You really came all the way over here to ask me a question I’m positive you already know the answer to. Well fuck you, Zayn Malik.”

Zayn steps even closer, actually looking a bit angry now.

“Answer me, Niall. Tell me the truth. If you can’t even use your words then I _will_ just leave.” Niall glares back at Zayn, who’s eyes are so dark and intense and uncharacteristically irritated. Niall thinks this is a bad idea; he shouldn’t fall for Zayn’s pretty-boy trap and should lie to him and tell him to go home.

But then another part of Niall is telling him to go for it. Telling him that alright, it’s not like he has that much to lose anyways. It can’t get any worse than it is now.

So, against his better judgment, Niall exhales sharply and growls out, “Yes, Zayn, I fucking like you.”

Zayn continues to glare crossly back at him, waiting for Niall to elaborate. Niall rolls his eyes. “As in, like-like. As in I think you’re extremely good-looking and interesting and funny and really an asshole, and I may or may not think about you every time a love song comes on the radio or whenever I see couples walking by on the street.”

Zayn’s expression has slowly morphed into something vaguely terrifying to Niall. He’s looking at him incredulously, like Niall is an alien, or something.

Niall swallows, eyes going a bit wide, angry demeanor quickly dissolving into nervousness as he realizes what he’s just blurted out. “Uh. Yeah, well, I guess that was a bit. Uh.” Niall doesn’t know what else to say. He doesn’t trust himself to say anything else at all. He scratches the back of his neck, feeling his skin get hot.

This isn’t how Niall ever wanted it to go. He’d imagined this whole conversation much calmer and much _happier_ , with less glaring and more kissing involved. But now that Niall thinks about it he realizes how ridiculous a thought it is. Anything with Zayn isn’t going to be light and fluffy. He looks down at his hands and plays with his fingers, desperate for a distraction from the awkward silence. He should tell Zayn to leave. He should crack a joke. He should do _something_.

But suddenly, Niall feels fingers on the back of his neck, pulling his head up and forward, and a pair of lips slam against his. He feels an arm wrap tightly around his waist and feels Zayn’s nose pressed against his cheek and Zayn’s lips start moving against his and he suddenly realizes _holy shit, Zayn is kissing me right now and it’s wonderful and I was right, I was totally_ right _about his kissing_.

Zayn makes this breathy sound that makes Niall’s knees quiver, and it’s all he can do to reach up and grip Zayn’s shoulders to stop himself from falling. Zayn turns them a bit and walks forward, backs Niall into the wall next to the window, presses against him so Niall can feel every inch of Zayn’s body against his own. Zayn’s bigger than him, and even though it’s only by a few inches it’s a big enough difference where Niall just barely has to stand on his toes to be level with Zayn and once again Niall is _totally right because he does lean over me._

“Niall.” Zayn’s voice is low and gravelly. He tugs on Niall’s lip then moves his mouth down along his jaw line and neck, saying his name again, “Niall.”

Niall tilts his head back as he waits for Zayn to follow that up with something but he doesn’t, he just keeps pressing open-mouthed kisses down his neck and across his collarbone, leaving Niall’s heated skin searing. Niall’s shirt gets lifted up over his head (their lips are together again so quickly it’s as if they’d not broken apart) and thrown on the wooden floor, and Zayn’s kisses make their way down Niall’s chest.

His mouth pauses briefly at one of his nipples, tongue toying with it for a second before his mouth closes around it and sucks. There’s a loud, wet popping noise as Zayn releases it and then Zayn does it again, and this time Niall’s a bit more prepared for it and lets out a gasp that has Zayn smirking. Niall wants to wipe the grin off Zayn’s face but at the moment he can’t even see straight, and so it’s not very high on his To-Do list right now but he’ll get to it later.

Zayn continues his way down Niall’s body, fingers quickly undoing the buttons on Niall’s jeans and tugging the denim pants down to his ankles. Niall’s having a hard time watching what Zayn’s doing and breathing at the same time, so he has to choose and even though it’s a hard decision he goes with breathing because that’s maybe a little bit more important. He lets his eyes slip shut and his head falls back against the wall. He barely notices the crinkle of the Bon Jovi tour poster under his hair because Zayn’s mouth is suddenly right _there_ over his dick and he can feel Zayn’s lips mouthing at the head and _oh_. Oh, he didn’t know you could feel someone’s tongue that well through fabric but fuck, apparently you can.

Niall gasps in shaky breaths as Zayn does things with his tongue that he shouldn’t be allowed to do, and then Zayn’s fingers are beneath the waistband of Niall’s Calvin Klein’s and he’s sliding them down, along his thighs and past his knees, and the chilly air hits Niall’s dick just like a water balloon, sudden and the coldness is everywhere all at once. He whimpers mindlessly but then Zayn’s mouth is on him now and oh, okay, this is much better, this is really, really good.

Niall’s mind is reeling, time is passing in a blur as Zayn practically sucks him dry. He’s writhing against the wall and he’s not paying attention to the sweat that’s dripping down his neck or the tightness that’s making his back ache but he notices the heat of Zayn’s mouth and that’s all he can focus on and now Zayn’s also feeling up his legs and his balls and this is just too fucking much.

“Zayn. _Zayn._ I can’t hold - I can’t - fuck, Zayn, I’m gonna - _fuck_.” Niall’s mumbling nonsense, repeating Zayn’s name like a prayer, hands tangling in the tresses of Zayn’s dark hair and then suddenly the earth gives out beneath his feet and stars are exploding behind his eyelids and Zayn has a tight grip on both his hips to keep Niall standing as he rides out what is probably the best orgasm of his life so far.

Shudders continue to roll through Niall’s body as Zayn works him gently in his mouth while he softens up, stopping only when Niall becomes too sensitive, mouth then moving to place gentle kisses over his stomach while Niall catches his breath. They sit there for a while, silently basking in the afterglow. Niall’s eyes are still squeezed shut and his head is still against the poster on the wall. Zayn is on the floor, still fully clothed, staring up at Niall with a mixed expression of triumph and wonder on his face.

After a minute Niall finally opens his eyes and peers down at the boy on the ground in front of him.

Zayn’s cheeks are flushed ridiculously red and his lips are swollen and wet. There’s some of Niall’s come on his chin and on his top lip but Zayn doesn’t seem to notice, or care. He’s breathing hard, too, and wearing a subtle smirk that kind of just screams, “Yeah, I suck like I get paid for it.” Niall shakes his head at the sight of Zayn, as though he can’t quite believe it, still.

Niall kicks his pants and trousers all the way off and just sort of lets himself fall to the ground, onto his knees in front of Zayn, mirroring him. He places his hands on Zayn’s shoulders and leans forward, pressing his lips carefully, almost hesitantly, against Zayn’s before pulling away again. Underneath Zayn’s infuriating smirk there’s a look in his eyes that Niall can’t quite figure out; but he decides that for the moment it doesn’t really matter. He just wants to focus on getting that damn smirk off Zayn’s face.

*

The smoke from Zayn’s cigarette is in Niall’s face and it’s all he can do to keep himself from batting it away. They’re on Niall’s bed now, not touching, not even close to each other, trying to calm down from the storm they’ve just created. Zayn’s making these content little humming noises to himself and Niall’s blocking him out, trying to decipher the mess in his head. He’s trying to figure out why his heart hasn’t stopped pounding yet, why his blood is still rushing in his ears, and a voice in the back of his head is going, _maybe it’s because you fucking like-like him, you twat._ But no, that can’t be it, because Niall knows that if he feels that way then Zayn has to, too. But Zayn doesn’t seem at all flustered by the fact that he’s in Niall’s bed right now, that they’ve just had sex that was pretty mind-blowing, to Niall at least. Zayn’s face isn’t betraying his emotions, Zayn’s heart isn’t fluttering like mad, they’re not even touching anymore and well, fuck, Niall is just now realizing that maybe he’s fallen harder for Zayn than Zayn has for him.

And the feeling that comes along with that realization has got to be the worst feeling in the world.

Zayn and Niall don’t talk at all over the rest of the weekend. That Friday night, when Zayn goes to sneak back out through Niall’s bedroom window as the sun starts to come up, Zayn doesn’t kiss him goodbye or anything, just throws him another smirk and drawls, “See you ‘round, yeah?” Niall can only nod, not trusting his voice, and Zayn walks away from his house as the sun peaks out from behind the trees.

He doesn’t look back.

*

When Niall steps through the front doors of his school the following Monday morning, he feels like everyone’s eyes are on him. Of course, he knows that’s ridiculous, nobody gives a shit about him and nobody knows what he and Zayn did over the weekend, but Niall still feels like he’s a mouse in an experiment and everyone else is waiting for him to spontaneously combust or something.

Harry and Liam are at Niall’s locker when he gets there, their faces wearing contrasting expressions: Harry looks like he knows something Niall doesn’t (which Niall knows is untrue because it’s the other way around) and Liam looks like he’s about to be told the results of an ex-girlfriend’s pregnancy test.

“So, big boy, how’d it go?” Harry winks at Niall when he reaches them. He stares at Harry, alarmed.

“What are you talking about?”

“Lou told me that Zayn was going to apologize to you this weekend. Did he?”

“Wait, what? What does Louis know that I don’t know he knows? What’s going on?” Niall glances at Liam then back at Harry.

“Well, we all noticed how you were acting around Zayn,” Niall bristles back but Harry ignores him and continues, “and Louis said he told Zayn off for messing with you. Said something about how he told Zayn to leave you alone or make the first move or something. I thought Zayn might have just ignored him, but seeing your expression now just confirms that Zayn did indeed make the first move.”

So Niall had been wrong; Harry and Louis _had _noticed. Figures — he couldn’t keep his feelings a secret from anyone. Niall rolls his eyes and gets the books he needs to from his locker, moving quickly so they’re not late for class.__

“Okay so, yeah — he came over Friday night.”

“And? Come on, we need details!”

“But, Niall, don’t feel pressured to tell us _everything…_ ”

“Oh please, Liam, like our innocent little Nialler really did anything dirty.” Harry sniggers and claps Niall on the shoulder, but his laughter disappears as he notices the way Niall’s face turns beet red. Niall quickly shuts his locker door and turns around, going down the hallway quickly with his two mates jogging to keep up on either side of him.

“Niall! You _did_ do the dirty, didn’t you?” Harry is trying to wear an expression of mock-disgust, places a hand over his heart, but the act is ruined by his grin. Niall rolls his eyes again, turning his head down.

“Niall…did you? Did you really…. So soon?” Liam is looking at him with his puppy dog eyes, and Niall refrains from scowling.

“Course not, Liam.” Niall spares a peeved glance at Harry, who smirks, before turning back to Liam. “All that happened was… I just told him that I like him. Well, he told me to tell him. But then my mouth disconnected from my brain and then I — fuck, he kissed me.”

Harry makes an awkward noise and Liam’s eyes grow wide.

“That’s it, though? You guys only kissed?”

“No! No, we… well, I didn’t mean to let him get any further than that but… I just sort of let him do what he wanted after that because I couldn’t really think straight.” Harry wolf whistles. Niall shrugs it off, fingers twitching in memory.

They reach the classroom and sit in their seats.

“But, so… How far _did_ you go, Niall?” Liam is leaning over from the desk on Niall’s right, looking anxious. Harry leans over, too, from behind Liam. 

“We, uh. He…gave me a — well, you know.” He awkwardly thrusts his head forward a little bit, unsure of how to explain.

Liam is looking at him as though he’s just grown another head but Harry just smirks, clearly understanding but all the same saying, “No, Niall, we don’t know. What’d he give you, huh? A handjob? A rimjob?” Liam frantically shushes Harry, glancing around to make sure no one is listening. Harry shrugs him off.

“No,” Niall mutters, embarrassed beyond belief.

“Well, come out with it then. If you think you’re old enough to have sex then you need to be able to talk about it.” Niall glares at him.

“He gave me a blowjob.” A shit-eating grin spreads across Harry’s face. Liam looks scandalized.

“He _what_?”

“And then I blew him.” Harry’s grin gets wider, nodding his head in approval.

“ _What_?!” And suddenly, Niall is proud of himself.

“Yeah. But then we just kind of sat there, silent and all for a while. And then he just…went home.” Harry and Liam are now at the edges of their seats.

“And that was it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that was it.” Niall tries to ignore the part of his stomach that sinks at the memory. Liam and Harry sit back, and Niall turns to stare at the front of the room, completely not paying attention when his teacher walks in and makes an announcement for the quiz at the end of that week.

Niall invites them over for dinner that night, his mum wants to try out some new Mexican recipe and she always likes to have his friends over for new recipes, but Liam tells him he has to study and Harry tells him he’d really just rather see Lou.

So Niall is alone that evening, plagued by reruns of Friday night, hoping against hope that a miracle will happen and Zayn will show up to throw rocks at his window again.

But of course, when you want something to happen, it never actually does.

And by the way, his mum’s new recipe is great. Thanks for asking.

———— 

Sometimes, Niall doesn’t like Zayn.  
Well, that’s not true. Niall always likes Zayn But sometimes, he doesn’t like the way Zayn makes him feel. Or the way he makes him stumble over his words. Or the way his heart stutters whenever he’s within spitting distance of the boy.  
And Niall, while innocent and carefree and open, doesn’t like feeling vulnerable.  
Doesn’t like knowing that Zayn could take Niall’s whole world in the palm of his hand and just crush it to pieces.  
Because Zayn totally could. And he knows it, too.  
But Niall likes to think that he won’t. He likes to think that Zayn cares about him too much.

———— 

At first Niall thinks his worrying is overrated, but then it’s another two full days before Zayn even texts him.

Niall tries not to think about it too much.

(And it’s not a even special text or anything, either. It’s just another stupid quote Zayn must have found in one of his dumb art magazines or something. Niall doesn’t save it this time.)

*

Harry and Liam notice the change in Niall’s demeanor as well, but while they try to cheer him up they never outright ask him about it, and Niall is grateful. While on the one hand he wants somebody to tell him that he’s working himself up over nothing, he also just wants to move on if it really was a one time deal.

He also wishes Zayn would just be straight with him for once.

(No pun intended.)

*

The next time he sees Zayn (not at Louis’s this time, but at that Ed guy’s house) it’s not as awkward as he’d imagined it would be. It’s just like how they used to be, actually, and for some reason that’s even worse. Zayn is his normal, charming, frustrating self and Niall remains a stuttering idiot around him; and despite the fact that he can say he’s given Zayn an orgasm before, he still feels like a little kid around him.

Zayn is making an obvious effort to act like nothing has changed.

And Niall doesn’t know quite what to make of that.

The stars aren’t out. Leaves swirl in circles on the ground, and Niall’s bloodshot and half-lidded eyes follow them. Harry and Liam had gone home earlier, to wank and study respectively, most likely, but Zayn, Louis, and Ed are still with Niall, walking on both sides of him along an abandoned dirt road.

It had been Zayn’s idea to get high.

It had been Louis’s idea to actually go through with it.

It had been Ed who’d had the weed stashed under his mattress.

And Niall really just hadn’t wanted to be the odd man out.

So now here they were, with Louis high off his rocker and hanging all over Zayn, laughing at a group of ducks down by the nearby lake. Zayn is barely supporting Louis because he’s pretty high himself, but he obviously does this more often than Louis does and he can handle himself better. Ed is muttering something under his breath, and Niall gets the strange feeling that it’s poetry he’s coming up with off the top of his head but Niall doesn’t really feel like asking.

But this is Niall’s first time with weed, actually, so he doesn't feel very high at all. He’s only got a headache and a dangerously emotional pang in his chest, but the weed isn’t to blame for that second thing.

Niall’s eyes keep periodically flicking to Zayn, and he silently ponders just _how_ exactly Zayn makes him want to simultaneously kiss him senseless and curl up in a ball and die. The way his black hair is nearly invisible and his tanned skin is even darker in the nighttime contrasts with Niall’s light features. In the back of his mind, Niall bitterly thinks that it sort of balances them out. _Hey, look at us, like the sun and the fucking moon._

It’s a dumb comparison. Niall rolls his eyes at himself and shoves his fists further into the pockets of his jacket.

*

Later that night, when Niall is walking home from Ed’s house, he hears footsteps hurrying to catch up with him. Part of him thinks it’s just wishful thinking when he sees the varsity jacket out of the corner of his right eye. The other part of him can’t breathe.

“Hey.” Zayn’s saying it casually.

“Hi.” Niall keeps his eyes straight ahead, hands in the pockets of his trousers. Zayn sighs, softly so that Niall thinks he might have imagined it.

“Look.” Zayn’s voice doesn’t give anything away. He nudges Niall’s shoulder and nods to his right, pointing up — at the moon. “Full moon. Werewolves are out.”

Niall can’t help it.

“Yeah? Where d’you reckon they might be?”

“Probably hiding in that old shed two houses down from yours. Sneaking in the woods behind my house.”

“Might be snacking on Ed and Louis right now.” Niall’s smiling at the sidewalk.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Silence for a bit longer.

“Do you know — you look much whiter in the moonlight.” Niall’s head jerks up, looking at Zayn for the first time since he left Ed’s. Zayn is looking intently at his face. Niall swallows.

“I — do I?”

“You do.”

“Can’t say it’s something I’ve really paid attention to.”

“Well, it’s something I’ve noticed.” Niall isn’t sure where Zayn is going with this.

“Okay. Your hair is a lot blacker.”

“I know.” Niall nods and looks at the sidewalk again.

Suddenly Zayn stops, and Niall does, too.

“What are we doing?”

“Well, we were walking.”

“Let me rephrase: what are we doing? With each other? What kind of relationship do we have here?” Niall is taken aback; he hadn’t expected Zayn to be the one to bring this up.

“Apparently we’re just friends.”

“We’re — that’s what we are? Friends?”

“I guess.”

“You blew me.”

“You blew me first.”

“And we’re just friends?”

“I guess.”

Zayn exhales loudly and shakes his head.

“This is bullshit.” Niall opens his mouth but can’t find the words to say to that except, “I know.” Zayn nods and gives Niall a determined look.

“So let’s change that.”

“Change that?”

“Yes.” And before Niall can come up with a response, Zayn lunges forward and presses his mouth to Niall’s. His lips start moving insistently, and Niall pushes back with drive. One of Zayn’s hands wraps around the back of his neck to pull him closer, and Niall’s hands instinctively come up to grasp Zayn’s head, holding him there as if Zayn had any intentions of pulling away. Zayn’s other hand grabs Niall’s hip and tugs on it, making Niall step forward, crashing into him. A moan rings out loudly in the air, but Niall isn’t sure who it comes from. He isn’t sure about anything except that he’s kissing Zayn and he doesn’t ever want to stop.

It seems like both hours and seconds have passed when they finally break apart. Zayn rests their foreheads together, both of them gasping air into their lungs, and Zayn’s eyes are staring at Niall’s bruised lips. Niall can’t find the strength to keep his eyes open.

Their hands don’t move, still clutch onto each other, afraid to let go. Eventually, though, Zayn loosens his grip and Niall follows suit, not moving away from each other but letting their hands fall. The lost contact doesn’t last; Niall unconsciously reaches out again to hook his fingers with Zayn’s, and when they start walking again their hands swing together between them.

When Zayn drops Niall off at his door Niall doesn’t let go. He tugs Zayn along with him to his bedroom and pulls him down under the covers; and when Zayn falls asleep holding Niall with his chest against the younger boy’s back, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

———— 

Sometimes, Niall doesn’t like Zayn.  
Well, that’s not true. Niall always likes Zayn.  
But sometimes, he doesn’t like the way Zayn makes him feel. Or the way he makes him stumble over his words. Or the way his heart stutters whenever he’s within spitting distance of the boy.  
And Niall, while innocent and carefree and open, doesn’t like feeling vulnerable.  
Doesn’t like knowing that Zayn could take Niall’s whole world in the palm of his hand and just crush it to pieces.  
Because he could. And Zayn knows it, too.  
But Niall likes to think that he won’t. He likes to think that Zayn cares about him too much.  
And it’s true.  
Zayn does.


End file.
